tacenda
by pelokkain
Summary: these are matters not to be mentioned.


**notes & disclaimers - **i do not own hetalia axis powers.

the decapitalization is stylistic choice. so is the on-and-off punctuation. it's a bit daft but oh well. ooc and overdramatic and whatever idk im sleepy

* * *

><p><strong>tacenda.<strong>

antonio calls up lovino one day; for dinner, he says, just like the old times.

lovino agrees, after a moment of "what, i can't hear" and "hello? hello?" and a string of gratuitous english curse words he's learned from online translators; a new phase he's going through, antonio assumes. lovino agrees, hesitantly, reluctantly, "okay"; continues, "but only 'cause pasta's expensive and i've run out"

"yeah" antonio replies, and there is a moment of silence; he can hear lovino breathing, and he hangs up first.

* * *

><p>when lovino comes over, he asks what antonio's cooking; antonio laughs; "pasta, obviously" because lovino had mentioned on the phone he wanted some.<p>

"i see" lovino says, looking somewhat suspicious, and antonio offers to show him the kitchen. he looks rather irritated, and his stomach makes a noise; antonio laughs again and even though he doesn't say yes, he doesn't protest at the action.

"you've made it all stupid" lovino says, and begins rummaging through the cupboards, biting his lip when he realizes that antonio doesn't keep the pasta where he used to.

it's a bit awkward, for a second, and lovino is ready to run his mouth and he's flushing red and getting up and

"it's in the one to your left" antonio smiles only halfway.

* * *

><p>lovino makes more pasta. it looks pretty normal to antonio, looks pretty much the same as the pasta he made.<p>

lovino demands that antonio serve it because he's all tired now and _why would you make your guest make your food for you? lazy bastard._

antonio nods, laughing, says; "you really haven't changed at all . . .", and lovino goes into the dining room without a word.

and maybe he's a little more annoyed than he lets on because he ends up serving the pasta he had made instead of lovino's.

antonio smiles as lovino speaks; "see? it's a lot better than what you could do."

* * *

><p>the pasta's finished and done with and antonio asks questions, lots of them, like "how are you?" and "is feliciano doing okay?" and "mm, that jacket looks nice, where did you get it?"<p>

maybe lovino's just a private person or maybe he's just awkward; he answers each question with a sigh and a roll of his eyes and "_can't you just let me eat? that's the reason i came here, you know_"

antonio laughs and means to reach for the bottle of wine and pour some for him and lovino, but instead he slips up and spills words. "why don't you love me?"

* * *

><p>antonio's crying as lovino kisses him; not really crying, not really, not really. he's laughing as lovino kisses him.<p>

they say laughing is good for your health, and good for a long life. apparently.

antonio clutches at lovino's shoulders too tightly, digging his nails into his shirt. lovino leads him into the wrong bedroom, at first, bangs into the door when he does find the right room, says "for fuck's sake, why do you need such a big house, you don't even live with anyone" and

for a long time, it's just _moving_, the rustling of clothes and heavy breathing and barely there laughter, barely there crying and things not to be said and mentioned and _"why don't you love me?"_; lovino swallows, nervously, and when antonio looks at him, he looks away.

antonio reaches up, kisses lovino's sweaty lips and pulls away, but not too far; breathes on to lovino's scarlet mouth, slurred spanish and broken italian, "i love you, i love you lovino, i love you italian boy, i love you"

lovino doesn't reply.

* * *

><p>"it's not that it's you that i don't love" lovino's voice is muffled, as he presses kisses to antonio's neck, and this is the only time he'll talk honestly. "it's just that i don't . . . i hate everything -"<p>

"you really haven't changed at all . . ." antonio says again that day. laughing. except not really. "you are just like the whiny teenager who left this place."

lovino pauses, lips still against antonio's shoulder. "i hate you least, you know. if - if things were different . . . i think - maybe when i'm older and stuff - maybe then - "

antonio laughs some more before the boy can finish.

"you're not going to change your mind, you know" he says.

lovino looks annoyed, as he turns antonio around and kisses him; kisses him _hard_ and there is something like desperation, peeling at the edges of him, like old paint.

"i fucking will, don't tell me what to do, you piece of shit" lovino says the last bit in english; continues. "crap bitch motherfucker cunt"

"yeah" antonio replies. "i know"

it's stupid; but when lovino kisses him like that, he almost feels hopeful.

* * *

><p>antonio wakes up alone; laughs too much, again. he expected this.<p>

lovino doesn't call, that day; or the day after. or that year at all.

"you really haven't changed at all . . ."

* * *

><p>antonio calls up lovino one day; for dinner, he says, just like the old times.<p>

lovino agrees, after a moment of "what, i can't hear" and "hello? hello?" and a string of gratuitous english curse words he's learned from online translators; a new phase he's going through, antonio assumes. lovino agrees, hesitantly, reluctantly, "okay"; continues, "but only 'cause pasta's expensive and i've run out"

"yeah" antonio replies, and there is a moment of silence; he can hear lovino breathing, and he hangs up first.


End file.
